Tempt My Trouble (Knights of Mayhem Book 1) Page 8

  Frogger’s fingers tapped a manic beat on the table as he mentally crunched the numbers. “After dues, that’s about fifty G’s a piece—that’s including the cut we’d have to dole out to Sacramento and Spokane for their help.”

  Zero let out a long whistle. “That’s a lot of scratch.”

  I glanced up to see my father staring straight at me, a challenge in his eyes. “But is it really just six months? What if Johnny tries to extend?”

  A valid question, and thankfully, one that I’d anticipated.

  “Already covered. The deal I’m bringin’ to the table is six months, he’s clear on that. Johnny knows how we operate. If circumstances change, he knows it’ll require another vote.”

  A low murmur spread across the table, as each member weighed the pros and cons of the proposed arrangement.

  “Dangerous game,” Gunner grumbled from the back of the room.

  “Alright, let’s vote,” Chains called out, effectively silencing the room. “Baz, start us off.”

  “Yea,” I said, trying to exude as much confidence as possible. We were at the precipice of a new era for the club, and this vote would speak volumes about where we were headed. And if it didn’t work out, the burden of failure would lay directly on my shoulders.

  The vote moved around the table earning ‘yeas’ from myself, Jester, Rooster, Zero, Frogger, and Crow. With Ace, Ox, and Gunner voting against. Factoring in the anticipated ‘nays’ from my father and Chains as well as the proxy vote Chain’s held for Booker, who was currently out of town, we were split down the middle when the vote came to Mick.

  Given the look on Mick’s face, he’d done the math too and knew he’d be the deciding vote. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head sharply, causing my stomach to sink. “Yea,” he said through clenched teeth.

  The room stilled and we locked eyes, Mick gave me a look that said don’t make me regret this, and I lifted my chin in thanks as Chains brought the gavel down.

  “Seven ‘yea’s’, vote passes.”

  The issue was decided, but it was far from settled, the vote had been too close for that. The brothers would honor the decision, but it wouldn’t be the last we heard on the subject.

  Chains put down his cigar and cleared his throat. “Now, what to do about the Sinners, we can’t let what happened tonight fly.”

  Murmurs of agreement came from all sides, but I spoke up before it could get out of hand. The boys were thirsty for blood, but I needed to keep them reined in until we knew more.

  “I say we wait, see what the Chinese are going to do. The Sinners are going to be expecting us to strike back, but we’ve got other concerns. The shit that went down tonight was public, that means we’re going to have eyes on us for a while. I think the smart move is to lay low for the time being and see how things play out,” I offered.

  “And let those fuckers think we’re weak?” Gunner asked, incredulously. I was surprised by his outburst, he usually wasn’t as vocal in church, allowing the more active members to debate club issues.

  “The fuck do we care what those tweakers think of us?” Rooster challenged. “They’ve barely got a set of teeth between the lot of ‘em.”

  Gunner’s heavy hand slammed on the table, bringing everyone’s attention to the angry old timer. “It’s not just them. This is our reputation on the line! If word spreads that we let a direct attack go unpunished, we might as well pack up our shit and leave town now.”

  Ox and Ace nodded their agreement, and I groaned. I was tired of having the same fucking conversation over and over.

  “This isn’t the seventies anymore, times have changed. You can’t just slip a few bills at a cop to have them turn the other cheek. We have to be smart about this. Protecting the club is more important than swift retribution. The Sinners stole from the Chinese; their days are numbered. Why put ourselves at risk when the problem may very well get taken care of without our hands getting dirty?”

  “The Knights handle their own business. We don’t rely on chink’s to do it for us!” Gunner growled, earning a groan of frustration from everyone under the age of forty.

  This racist asshole was getting on my last nerve, and I was barely holding onto my temper as it was, so when the next sentence out of his mouth was a direct jab at me, I lost it.

  “Don’t know how a boy raised in the life turned out to be such a pussy,” Gunner spat.

  My fists slammed into the table, and I was on my feet in an instant. “In case you’ve forgotten, when you held the gavel, your brothers were dropping like flies because your ego was so damn big, you refused to fucking think before you took action. Take a look around the table, old man. Times have changed, you’re the one who hasn’t. And need I remind you that you haven’t ridden in two years? You’re here as a fucking courtesy, so I suggest you shut the fuck up before I call a vote to challenge your seat at this table.”

  Gunner sputtered and started to wheeze and cough. For a second I thought he was going to croak, but he pounded on his chest, and his coughs eased. When he’d finally caught his breath, he opened his mouth to respond, but Chains cut him off.

  “That’s enough! I agree with Baz. We need to keep our hands clean until the heat from tonight dies down.”

  I reclaimed my seat, still seething. Usually, I held my tongue, but I was finding the task increasingly difficult in recent months. The stakes were too high. If we kept doing things the old way, we’d be doomed.

  “Never thought I’d see the day when the Knights turned into a bunch of Kumbaya pussies,” Gunner grumbled.

  “He wasn’t wrong about your place at this table either, Gun,” Chains said, his voice low and hard. All eyes swung to our President, the tension only building. “Unless you boys think we need a vote on this, the matter is settled. We wait it out and see where the chips fall before we take action.”

  Everyone nodded their agreement, and he ended church with the bang of his gavel. I moved to stand with everyone else, but Chains stopped me with a hand on my arm.

  “Hang back. We need to talk.”

  Almost got away with it.

  My eyes darted to my father who was sitting on the opposite side of our President. He hadn’t moved to get up either.

  Jester was the last to leave the room, he raised a brow at the three of us, but closed the door behind him on his way out.

  I lit another cigarette and reclined in my chair, opting to wait and see what they had to say before trying to defend my actions. I’d been out of line, and I knew it, however so had Gunner, and they knew it.

  Chains shared another look with Pops before turning his attention to me. “We’re counting on you to maintain our relationship with the Chinese and keep us out of long-term drug running. We take on enough risk with our gun business. We don’t need the added heat that comes with the H trade.”

  Blowing out a puff of smoke, I lifted my chin. “Understood.”

  Pops cleared his throat and pinned me with a stern look. “We want you to look into other income avenues for the club, legitimate ones. You were right about times changing, son. LEO is cracking down, and we need to set ourselves up for the future. We’re never going to be completely on the right side of the law, but that doesn’t mean we need to make it easy for them to take us down.”

  I sat up and narrowed my eyes at the older men in front of me. It was one thing to take my back. It was another to instruct me to work on pushing the club in a completely different direction. “What’s this about?”

  Chains ran a hand down his goatee, and I waited. He was a thoughtful man who chose his words carefully and always meant what he said. Whatever it was he was gearing up to say, had to be important.

  “This is about the future. The future of the club, and your future specifically.”

  What the fuck?

  My gaze flicked between my father and my President, both wore matching scowls that gave nothing away.

  Chains heaved a sigh and the scowl etched in his roughened face grew even deeper. “I’m dy
in’. Pancreatic cancer. Doc says I’ve got six months, maybe a year if I’m lucky.”

  Silence filled the room like a vacuum, sucking the air from my lungs and tipping my world upside down. Chains and my dad had been friends, brothers, since before I was born. He’d practically been a second father to me. Chains was the toughest motherfucker I’d ever met, he couldn’t die.

  I shook my head back and forth, willing time to reverse itself, to go back to before he’d said the words that changed everything. “Is Harley okay?” I asked. It was the first coherent thought that came to mind other than outright denial.

  Chains and his wife Charlotte, or Blondie as everyone called her, only had one child. Their daughter, Harley Mae, was almost exactly a year younger than me, which meant we’d grown up practically attached to each other’s hip. We’d even had joint birthday parties until we were thirteen. She’d been more of an annoying little sister to me than my actual little sister.

  And now her father is dying.

  “She doesn’t know yet. I want to give her some more time before she has to face that reality, which is why this stays between us.”

  I went to take a drag of my cigarette, only to see that it had burned out while I was reeling from the news. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because, I’m gonna be stepping down soon, wanna spend some time with my girls while I can. When I do, I’m nominating you as my replacement.”

  Shocked, I couldn’t say anything. Sure, I knew one day I’d probably hold the gavel, but I never thought it’d be this soon.

  “The boys already look to you for guidance. This club is your family. We both know this is the right move for the club, you’ll do us proud,” Pops said, smiling back at me from across the table.

  “How long?”

  Chains puffed on his cigar as he considered my question. “Show us you can handle this shit with the Sinners and the Chinese and the gavel’s yours.”

  My mind was spinning with the onslaught of new information. I looked between the two men I’d idolized my entire life. The bags under Chains’ eyes stood in stark contrast to the paler than usual skin of his cheeks. How had I not noticed?

  Chains was dying, he only had months to live, and everything was about to change. This would rock the entire club, family included, and they were depending on me to pick up the pieces.

  “And if I can’t?”

  Chains shook his head. “That’s not an option.”

  Seven

  BAZ

  “Get your sorry ass up!” I called through the flimsy wooden door.

  Not bothering to knock, I shouldered my way into the tiny room, kicking the clothes strewn across the floor to the side as I went. I didn’t have time to wait, the lazy fucker had slept long enough, it was already well past noon, and we had shit to handle.

  Jester was bare-assed and snoring face down in the biggest pair of tits I’d ever seen. The aforementioned massive tits were attached to Holly, one of the new club whores. I shook my head as I took in my best friend’s handy work. Bite marks covered her tits, and her makeup and hair was a fucking disaster. The ridden hard and put away wet look didn’t suit her.

  He must’ve been seriously fucked up last night, or he wouldn’t have touched her. He had dipped his dick in when she first started coming around, but she got attached, not entirely wrapping her head around the difference between property and club pussy.

  Jester rarely ever let bitches stay after he got his rocks off and I bit back a groan at the implication of making that mistake with a stage five clinger like Holly. She’d be screaming mad once he was conscious enough to kick her to the curb.

  Picking my way across the room, I kicked at the mattress on the floor that posed as a bed. “Jester! Wake the fuck up!”

  The snoring stopped abruptly, and he moaned, burying his face further into Holly’s chest. She responded with a moan of her own, arching her back and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

  3…2…1…

  “The fuck?” Jester snarled, instantly awake. He scrambled to disentangle himself from her prying hands. Sitting up, he scrubbed at his face, wincing at the harsh daylight streaming in from the window above the dresser. “Jesus Christ.”

  “What’s the matter, baby?” Holly asked, sitting up and curling herself around Jester’s back.

  He shrugged her off and stood, crossing the room to the adjoining bathroom. “Get out. I’ve got shit to do.”

  A look of hurt briefly crossed her face, but it was gone when she turned her attention to me. She stretched and fucked with her hair, not bothering to cover up. I imagined she thought it was sexy. It wasn’t. We’d all seen what she was working with more than a few times and aside from an impressive rack, she didn’t have much to offer.

  It was a tale as old as time, a cut slut hoping to upgrade to old lady, but hot only got you so far, and the Eiffel tower she’d pulled last week with Ox and Crow in the main room just pushed her farther into my never going to happen column.

  “What about you? Need to work out some pent-up aggression?” she asked, standing to rake her nails down my chest.

  Capturing her wrists, I turned and gave her a not so subtle shove out the open door. “Hard pass, now get gone.”

  Stumbling backward, she opened her mouth to argue, but I shut the door in her face. She let out an ungodly banshee shriek, and I twisted the lock a second before she started pounding on the door.

  “Fucking cocksucker! I need my goddamn clothes!”

  Was it a dick move? Yes. Would I do it again? Absolutely.

  Holly had been making a habit of following Jester like a lost puppy when he was around and spreading her legs for anyone else once he was out of sight. If she was trying to score a property patch, she was doing a shit job of it. She needed to get her head on straight and learn her place or stop coming around. The boys didn’t need the hassle of clingy pussy.

  Jester poked his head out of the bathroom. “The fuck you do?” he asked around a mouthful of toothpaste.

  “Handled your shit. Now hurry up, we gotta go see Johnny. I’ll meet you out front.”

  He grunted and disappeared back into the bathroom.

  When I stepped into the hallway, Holly was still there, butt ass naked with her hands on her hips and fury in her eyes. “Get your shit and split,” I said, brushing past her without a second look.

  “Fucking asshole,” she muttered, and I heard Jester’s door slam closed.

  I hoped to hell she’d gotten the message because as much of a dick as I’d been, Jester was capable of doing much worse. It took a lot to set him off, but when it happened, he cut deep. He wouldn’t hurt her, not physically at least, but he’d have no problem making her feel like shit on the bottom of his boot if she pushed him.

  Honestly, I didn’t know why my brothers bothered. It wasn’t like it was hard to go to a bar and pick up tail. The cut did most of the work for you anyways. I don’t know a single brother, except for Gunner’s decrepit ass, who’d been hurting for pussy since he’d gotten his patch. Hell, even the prospects held their own.

  Things hadn’t always been so fucked up, but lately, it seemed like a revolving door of bitches looking for a meal ticket just because they could suck dick like a Dyson.

  My mom, Candy, and Chains’ wife, Blondie, had done an excellent job of keeping the girls in line back in the day, making their status and the hierarchy known. Over the past few years though, the old-timers like my dad and Chains spent less time partying at the club and more time at home with their women. Which thankfully, meant I didn’t have to be subjected to my parent’s depravity on a regular basis anymore. However, with most of the younger brothers unattached, that left the rest of us to handle the strange and volatile power dynamic of club life.

  Even though only men were allowed to be patched members, it was the women that held a club together. There had to be a balance. What we needed was a couple of new old ladies to keep order, because even though I’d trust any of my brothers to have my back
if shit went sideways, not a single one of them knew what to do with a pissed off woman.

  My thoughts drifted to Rabbit. When I’d spotted her at the club the night before, I figured I’d get her away from the dickwad she was with and finally get a chance to fuck her out of my system. I managed to fuck her, but she was far from out of my system. No way, she’d starred front and center in every one of my fantasies over the past three years and getting another taste of her last night had only spurred on my obsession. Not only was Rabbit gorgeous with a body that just wouldn’t fucking stop, she had attitude for days.

  I hadn’t even known I liked mouthy women, but after last night, I couldn’t go back to docile bitches that did as they were told. I liked the fight, the way she challenged me for the upper hand. But when we weren’t at each other’s throats or fucking like teenagers, she acted like a scared little rabbit, skittish and constantly ready to bolt. I couldn’t figure her out. I’d have to take things slow, earn her trust and let her feel like she was in control. I hadn’t given it much thought when I told her I’d own her, but the more the idea settled, the more I liked it. If she could handle club life, Rabbit would make for the perfect old lady.

  Shelving the thought for later, I moved through the clubhouse and out to the forecourt. I hadn’t made it ten feet before I caught sight of Risa, my little sister, waving me down from one of the garage bays.

  Switching direction, I headed her way, but as I got closer, I wished I’d pretended I hadn’t seen her. She was pissed, and just like our mother, a pissed off Risa meant bad fucking news. The unfamiliar man standing next to her looked aggravated as well, which did little to ease my apprehension.

  This day just keeps getting better.

  I jerked my head in greeting to Risa and turned to the older man. “Hey, I’m Baz.”

  “Gary,” he said, taking my extended hand.

  Without so much as a cursory glance, Risa shoved the clipboard she’d been holding at my chest. I gave her a warning look that she adeptly ignored and thumbed through the papers. “Says here you’ve got a knocking rod and need a total rebuild.”